Shadow Weaver Poem by Dead Beat Poet
Shadow Weaver
Master weaver of the kind,
weave me a shadow if you don't mind.
I took the blame for mistakes never made,
this isn't the madness you had made in trade.
With shards of glass stuck in you eyes,
you glance right by me and never realize.
My mouth goes dry when I spot your flag.
If you are the tail I am your wag.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: madness
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8/28/2026 6:05:24 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
